Wandering Thoughts

Yes today was his birthday. And what better day to continue my post regarding the mysterious crush of mine, than this?

I had last mentioned (secret-crush-xyz-part-1) about noticing him for the 2nd time in my first class in college but don’t think that he wasn’t on my mind all these days. You bet he was… my head was forever jerking back to catch a glimpse of his handsome profile so much so that it looked like I had one of those terrible ticks shown so often in Bollywood. And he was and is, so blissfully unaware. It took nearly the entire semester to find out his whereabouts and today I can say he’s no longer XYZ to me… though his behaviour if definitely something that has left me scratching my head( & I don’t have lice!)

 It’s the end of my first semester already ( I have exams next Monday :( ) & the total no.of conversations I’ve had with him can be counted on my fingers, just one hand’s. I try to corner him now & then but he slips away trying to act as if no one would not…

"This post is written for Blogeshwar 6.0  and Anubhooti"It was a cold dark night, with the wind howling and the dogs moaning. Oops sorry.. I meant the wind moaning and the dogs howling. What does it matter, the sounds were scary & our hero was sweating despite it being December .It was a bad idea indeed to have accepted this challenge, I know the bully won’t arrive with his gang for the face-off but my hero the 13yr old Nikhil didn’t of course and here he was... snuggling up to his best buddy Bob as sneakily as he could without leaving any other impression.

“I’m telling you man, he won’t come. He’s a sissy! He just wanted to look cool and tough. And will you stop sleeping on me?” Bob whined for the..let me count.. yeah 5th time in 30minutes. “And how do you know that? I’m not going back tomorrow without proving who won the fight!” teen that he was, Nikhil displayed the trademark stubbornness. Hey I almost forgot to give you the background. Well, there was thi…

If  I were to actually focus on the one basic desire of the ‘man’kind then a short 3-letter word would suffice. But I’m not biased and neither is this an adult blog post so I have to delve deeper into the topic of what men want…

I’m kind of out of luck here as men are a species I have always failed to understand. Why on Earth would someone wear the same shirt for a week to school (my cousin) I cannot fathom.  I guess I am straying from the topic, what men want to why men want so…

Men Want To Be the Boss:

Be it in an office or at home, men always want to be the boss, the supreme master and the .. ok you got it. Especially at home the need to be the boss is overwhelming.  Sometimes they don’t succeed and sometimes they think they have succeeded!

Men Want To Get Noticed:

Ok everyone craves for attention, it’s a part of human nature unless you are a shy introvert kinda person who freezes under limelight. Men of course love to get noticed. Be it for their flashy gadgets ,their super fast car…

I bring to you a guest post by a like-minded eccentric blogger who goes by the name XYZAndMe.Catch his thoughts & his blog to know more about him.
Let me not delay & bring to you his thoughts which were the result of me requesting him to write for me after a rather long discussion earlier.Here you go ..Well .. Since I have specified in my "about me" section about my definitive hatred towards the human male species.. I find no "gaddar"(traitor) feeling about myself while writing this post which may be (mostly) against my own kind.
I mean If I were a girl ...I would, by default be a lesbian.

I have never ever written a "guest" post .. It gives me a feeling of writing an essay on a sly topic like " My Pet " in the school days..Or the hindi one like " Ek phool ki aatmakatha" often misspelled by me on purpose to " ek phool ki atmahatya" just to mess with my hindi teacher .. who hated me for almost everything. And it was…

This post is written for Blogeshwar 5.0
and Anubhooti
Go to www.myntra.com and check out Myntra Diwali Offer. Shop for Rs 500
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And for
largest community of Indian Bloggers at BlogAdda.comJust like the rest of my life has an ample sprinkling of disasters like the colourful papaya pieces in a tuti-frutti bread slice, my festivals too end up being special occasions of entertainment to my family. At my expense of course.
My initial Diwalis were spent hiding somewhere where I won’t end up jumping at the sudden bomb blasting in my neighbourhood or watching my father light the flowerpots with the phooljhari, at a safe distance. I remember one Diwali in Kolkata when I was in Std1. I’d ventured out to the balcony to call Mom for something & bam! Next thing I know am on the floor…the big bomb blast that made me jump & end up with a throbbing rear end making it difficult to sit down in school the next day and a vow never to move outside…

They say I used to turn my head and stare at the TV screen when the jingle for the Samachar in Doordarshan used to play: at the age of 6months. And when one fine day in the summer vacation, just as I had entered school, my bespectacled cousins got all ready for their bi-monthly trip to the oculist (with the usual snobbish aura) the little me jumped onto the auto too: just for the sake of a trip with the elder duo. And lo & behold, the specs I had to put on later were of a higher power than any of my afore-mentioned cousins.
Thus began my journey with the additional 2 eyes. I still remember the light pink color rounded frames I wore that covered half my face & the itchy shoelace type thingies dangling by the rims that came with it. Thankfully before Shaktimaan entered into the scene the shoelaces were off.
There are many incidents related to my beloved specs, specially in school days. There was this time when the class monitor won’t let me enter the classroom as she claimed I be…

‘English is a funny language’-I have heard this term numerous times, most often by sarcastic staunch Hindi speakers and also sometimes by English teachers who say it in a very indulging kind of way, like a fond mother taking about her naughty kid. Nevertheless I agree with it. It is indeed a funny language, but with a charm of its own. Capricious & unpredictable, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth if you aren’t careful.

Going by the example of why ‘but’ & ‘put’ are never pronounced the same way, there are many other discrepancies when it comes to this language. The use of the extra ‘u’ in British English (colour/color) which MSWord ruthlessly underlines in red & the war between ‘z’ & ’s’(organization/organisation), are some examples. But what I wonder is why inspite of being perhaps the largest community of English speaking people, our version of the language is often looked down upon? An African might have fun with the language rapping away to his delight, eating …

This is the first post regarding events in my new college. Welcome KIIT to my Wandering Thoughts!Day 1:
Enter premises, 30minutes before scheduled class time. Correction, enter deserted premises.
Watchman gives concerned, pitiable looks, takes me to watchman no.2 who then escorts me to watchman no.3 on 2nd floor who guides me to my empty classroom.
My to-be first friend in KIIT enters class. After initial female sizing up process, we smile & start chatting in under 30 seconds.
10minutes before class is to start there is a rush as if a horde of buffaloes have been let loose. I can feel the floor shaking. Enter the guys.
Again watchman no.2 makes a reappearance and escorts us to section B classroom, that’s now ¾ filled with guys staring wide-eyed at us girls.
First friend trots off to the seat right before the teacher’s desk in the middle column. Ist bench. I sigh, curse inwardly & bid goodbye to my Back Benchers Association
Rest of the day spent trying to stifle yaws and hold…

Now don’t take this for a Grimm’s fairy tale. I’m talking about swine flu here. PJ you say? Oh well can’t help it if that stupid injection has paralyzed my funny bone!
So this grotesque tale begins with Mom reading the paper early morning and deciding that the world is now doomed to die a pig’s death. Luckily at that time we didn’t have a functional TV in our house or this verdict would have been declared quite early. (Speaking of TV, it’s the very reason why my thoughts haven’t done much wandering except wonder about why Shilpa of ‘Dill Mill Gaye’ tries to do all her acting with her eyes. Oh… sorry am straying from the topic here.)
So my Mom put her hypochondriac abilities to excellent use and added Swine Flu to the existing list of diabetes and suspected cancer-of-whichever-body part-is-paining-most. Don’t get me wrong, I value my life and am not making fun of Mom here, but I’ve lived with her for 21yrs & know all about her ‘symptoms’ are nothing but a figment of her imaginatio…

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
The sky I look up to is overcast,
Orange fumes rising from the blast,
Grey clouds mock & drift away,
Only the pain is here to stay

Saffron the colour of sacrifice,
Now adorns the messengers of malice,
The Blue wheel rotates once in 5 years,
Unending lies, masks & the same tears,

Prosperity reflected by the humble Green,
Is twisted to portray monetary means.
The White sits silent and bleeds for me, Ruthlessly butchered by the powers that be.
Amidst this pain and macabre view,
I sense a turmoil & a rising long overdue,
The sky will clear & I’ll no longer burn,
Deep inside I know my colours will return…
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start…

She frowned at the pile of copies & books glaring at her from the desk. There was no way she could finish all the homework & it was already past 11pm. She let out a long sigh, rubbed her eyes & got ready for bed setting the alarm at 4am. “It’s a curse being in 12th standard” she muttered on her way to the common bathroom.
On the way back, she passed the room of her elder sister. The door was slightly ajar & Lara could see Asha sleeping soundly while her new touch phone resting innocently on the bedside table. The phone was a gift for topping that year in her engineering college. Lara being in the torturous 12th standard could only dream of such gadgets. She had only just managed to lay her hands on the computer on the pretext of school projects. And Asha being the obnoxious elder sister wouldn’t even let her enter her bedroom let alone touch her stuff.
But Asha was asleep & everyone knew that when Asha slept only an earthquake can wake her up. She survived her own…

I was thinking about writing on something when something else entered my chain of thoughts and here I am blogging about what gender is perfect for what subjects-(in case you are wondering how can people be so jobless, all I’d say is THIS is my job Miss/Mister!).
Usually when we converse in Hindi we end up referring to inanimate objects with a proper gender. So why not extend that courtesy to subjects we study in school? So I thought & thought (having nothing better to do) and now have compiled the gender analysis results
©    Maths: I wanted to get over with my least favourite subject first. Oh, who am I kidding? I wanted to finish off first with the subject that I hate with every fiber of my being. Enough drama, now to the analysis.
Maths-it’s complicated, it’s scary when you are wrong, it’s stubborn & won’t listen to your pleas. And if you forget one formula you are done for! (Sounds like your sis/wife/GF ain’t it?) So female it is.
©    Geography: This one’s easy. Though I…

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 13; the thirteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

She peeped to look at him again & again failed to catch his eye. It was as if he deliberately avoided her. But then, he was busy haggling with the customers. Beads of sweat lined his forehead as the hot sun beat down on him mercilessly. Nilu sighed. He wasn’t going to look at her any sooner. Mother would be waiting for her return to cook the lunch. She had to hurry back home. With reluctant steps she walked back home, passing the shop but this time not glancing at it.
Manas looked up just in time to see her profile heading back to the village. She was as usual carrying that huge & ugly black umbrella and the jute-bag laden with fresh vegetables from the market. In spite of the heavy burden, her poise & gait remained royal. She looked like a princess! …

I was in heaven, no not literally of course: I’m too much of a sinner to bag a space up there. I was in my own heaven-in a bookstore that had the magic words “upto 50% off” pasted on the clear glass walls. Definitely my kind of heaven! My hungry eyes scanned the shelves of books, picking out the most lusted-after titles. At times like this I sincerely regret neglecting maths & my G.K. I mean how do you deduct 33% off $7.99?? Still doing the mental math my eyes rested on a bookcase that almost bagged the center-stage.

The IIT books. Nope, not the dumbbell types ingenious torture devices invented by mankind to terrorize the youth. These IIT books were a different class altogether. Let me explain-Mr. Chetan Bhagat’s Five Point Someone (What Not to Do at IIT) adorned the topmost rung of the shelf.

Neatly arranged below the Guru of IIT’s amorous chronicles, were the other ‘shishyas’(disciples). I went through the titles & trust me the smirk never left my face. The names would make…

No give & take ritual of hearts was required You gave me your hand & that has sufficed With that you offered all that I had desired Love, faith & trust all that cannot be priced.

Over the years we may grow apart Distance & time, destiny’s sly hand But I’ve caged your memory deep in my heart I can see your smile from where I stand.
No words need fill the silence between u & I No bonds no promises will ever bind us together Fake worldly conventions we will always defy And yet we remain friends forever!
Read the full post here

I’m late I know, forgive me for that. This post should have been here the first thing when the clock struck 00 hrs. This is one of the things I hate about growing up, you tend to forget all your favorite childhood addictions. Luckily I was asked to report on…you guessed it-Harry Potter’s 30th birthday. So here I’m celebrating!!! J
It was a children’s magazine that had carried a kid’s review on this wizard who lived in a magical world. I was in Std 7 then & glued to all books (except the textbooks of course). I worshiped Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Secret Seven & what-not’s. But this review made me crave for this book. I remember forfeiting my birthday cake for this book-Harry Potter & The Goblet Of fire. And then I got addicted. Till date it has remained my favorite.


I read the series in the weirdest possible order-book4 went first & then Book 2 followed by 3 & then 1. I remain eternally grateful to my friends for lending me the series that I devoured with an urgency …

Do all relationships come with a sprinkling of the past? When I read IndiBlogger's latest Soch Lo contest topic I just said…
“Hell yes they do!”
I speak from experience-experiences that I wish no girl should have. Letting go of the past is wishful thinking on my part. It’s scarred me, molded me & made me into who I am now. As a rule I don’t regret what I have done, I never indulge in day dreams of what-if’s. Yet when you see a part of yourself lost somewhere in the ‘past’ never to surface again, it does feel bad.
Love-all through my teenage years I’d been considering it as a haloed word, complete with my Prince Charming on a white horse (you can snigger, but every gal has at least thought so once in her lifetime). I did find my so-called prince (not on the horse thank you) only to have my 1st encounter with the harsh reality when I was just 15(roll your eyes I’m not looking). That’s when I discovered a new 4-letter word that somehow attached itself to ‘love’…lust. The halo wa…

Why do I blog? Because I can! :)
Well, I joined Blogger in 2007 & posted for the 1st time in 2009. Not because I didn’t have anything to say, but for the lack of internet facility at home. So in 2009 finally I managed to persuade my parents that ‘Internet’ doesn’t only mean meeting strangers online or viewing shitty sites on the sly. (It means Orkut & Facebook!! Big grin :-D)
One fine day I remembered the promise made to myself about maintaining a blog & after the initial struggle with templates & all (am an IT student, shame on me!) I managed to post my 1st feature. Since then I can be seen banging away my poor keyboard with the 2 index fingers & 1 thumb (hey, my speed has increased mind you! I no longer spend 30secs looking for the missing ‘n’)
Initially my parents were happy, at least I wasn’t chatting with God-knows-who’s online. But then the frequency of my sitting before the PC increased. I even dared deny Mom from playing her much loved Solitaire! And my sister…

I have a boyfriend, as do a majority of the female & nowadays male population of the world. If you’d read my posts & not just scanned them, you might have recognized that hapless, poor soul who keeps making a guest appearance here & there in my stories.  Today I thought I should formally introduce him & tell his…no our story! I have spent all my life studying in an all-girls institutions right up to my graduation. Ignore the fact that I have had brief encounters with the male species in Std 5 & 6. At that age all that mattered to guys was football, WWE & Cartoon Network. After the hormones had kicked in & right after I got my 1st crush, I shifted to an all-girls Catholic school. Since then I’ve hardly had any opportunity to interact with guys. Well, am not going to waste time & space relating the amorous details (read disasters) of my life. This post is just an open-to all reply to my friends who have wiggled their eyebrows when I tried explaining how I …

I'm not a mirror,
I don't reflect your image,
I have my own to keep,
Flawless though it may not be,
I can still call it mine.

I cannot be your sunshine,
Enough shadows follow me,
Groping in darkness for a dream,
I cannot be your sunshine.

Don't try to hear my heartbeats,
And pretend to know their meaning,
The rhythm has long been lost,
It beats just to keep me alive.

Don't look in to my eyes to find my dreams,
They melted long ago,
Leaving their traces on my face,
Don't feel shy if you want to ignore.

Just let your soul test yourself,
Hear your heart beat for you,
Gather sunbeams to light your world,
Look for your dreams, for they are immortal.

But don't turn & look back at me,
I am empty and opaque,
Light doesn't know me
I am not a mirror!

That stupid sounding title somewhat about summarizes my ‘fun’ life. Whenever I open my mouth & say-“hey, what about a little fun?” around a gathering on my ‘sane/normal’ friends, I hear a ‘humph!’ or if they are feeling particularly polite that day, they simply change the topic. I don’t blame them, poor things. For they are the ones I turn to whenever my fun ideas wind me in a not comfortable scenario. Did I mention I’m the absolute human magnet for trouble?!
If I attempt to go down the memory lane, I’d have a long list of such memorable incidents to account. A vast variety to choose from, all of them having one thing in common-they were fun & ended in building up my dopey reputation! (ok that’s 2 things not 1) The most recent incidents being sketched out vividly in my mind, allow me to descend down the list.
Being committed is usually considered to be a safe girly thing & the intended purpose of having a boyfriend may range from shopping help to shoulder-to-cry/lean/etc…